Lizzie’s bout of righteous indignation was short-lived. As the two women embraced later that day, knowing that her attacker was also Lydia’s attacker, Lizzie agreed he must pay their price and the two friends shaped their plan for Monstrous Mal.

Some months later, it was payday – in more ways than one - for Monstrous Mal. He would, as he always did, spend a chunk of his earnings on the same day, mainly on beer but also on other recreational diversions. By the time he arrived home, Lydia could expect a severe thrashing. Occasionally, he collapsed and slept where he fell until the next day, and Lydia was safe for a few more hours.

That evening, he arrived home a little earlier than usual to find Lydia and Lizzie sitting in the living room. He staggered in the doorway and looked at both of them. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ he slurred.

Lydia stood up. ‘I’ll explain quickly, as we’re a little nervous. But we’re excited as well.’ She stepped forward and stood in front of him.

He looked at her aggressively. ‘Tell me now.’ His tone was hostile.

‘Well,’ Lydia tried her best to sound confident, ‘I wondered if you’d like a bit of fun tonight. You’ve hinted about having two women, and we’re ready and willing.’ She waited for a reaction, stroking his chest and then reaching for his groin. He liked the idea. ‘If it’s a bad idea, Lizzie will just leave and we’ll forget it.’

He glanced across at Lizzie. There was a flicker of smugness replacing the hostile stare.

‘Sounds good,’ he said, and then threateningly, ‘It better be.’

‘It will be like nothing before,’ promised Lydia. ‘Let’s all go upstairs.’

Half an hour later, Lydia phoned the police. She was standing in Lizzie’s kitchen. Hysterically, she explained her husband attacked her, tried to strangle and rape her – and not for the first time – then chased her from the bedroom where she tried to lock herself in. Then he’d tripped and fallen down the stairs. He wasn’t moving. She was frightened because she thought he was dead. She’d run to her neighbour’s, her friend.

Lydia later told the police they’d both tried to save her husband. Lizzie confirmed Lydia’s claim that she had experienced repeated attacks in the past.

It was eventually decided that Monstrous Mal died because of his fall, caused by booze and drugs. Lydia and Lizzie were both seen weeping and embracing at his funeral.

A year later, Lydia sold the marital home and moved the last of her belongings across the road to Lizzie’s.

Big Max was a burly man of the land who tended and cared for his livestock on a small farm to the east of Lower Winden. He was a weekly regular in the pub at Upper Winden, so Lydia and Lizzie took to visiting the pub. People saw them in conversation with Big Max, often laughing at his jokes. His only other friends at the pub were those now immune to the constant smell of animal waste and other odours that Big Max gave off.

It was two and a half years since the death of Lydia’s husband, who had apparently fallen down the stairs and broken his neck. The villagers of Lower Winden had divided opinions about the two women – and Monstrous Mal. Half believed they were not above suspicion in the deaths of their husbands. The others believed they were innocent victims who had suffered enough when their husbands were alive and wished them well now they were dead.

Big Max didn’t have an opinion on humans, only animals. He had always felt guilty about the night Lizzie had been gang raped. Sometimes he wanted to confess, but he didn’t have the strength. Initially, when the two women came to the pub, he’d been nervous. What did they know, if anything?

But there had never been a mention, a hint, a subtle suggestion. A rather clumsy friendship seemed to develop between them. The two women started buying produce from him, such as eggs and honey, and people regularly saw them visiting the farm gate and using the honesty box.

One day, they asked him if they could visit him socially. They were keen to watch the sunset from the slopes where he farmed. Would he mind? Big Max didn’t mind. In fact, he not only bathed on the day of the visit, but washed and ironed his clothes. It was one of the few times in recent memory that he didn’t smell of animal piss and shit.

Lizzie and Lydia couldn’t help but notice this when they arrived. Big Max noticed them as well – they looked very attractive. Clumsily, he told them how nice they looked. ‘I wish you were my girlfriends,’ he said.

They both smiled. ‘But we are, we are,’ laughed Lydia.

Lizzie and Lydia were keen to avoid leaving any clues, such as patterns. Their last two murders had involved naked men. This time, things changed.

Three days later, a farming neighbour found the man given the name Big Max by Lizzie and Lydia. He found him mutilated in the pigpen. There was no sign of any foul play, just a tragic accident. It was the lowest profile of all the deaths. Most of the animals found new homes, while others went to market and some, like the pigs, went for slaughter. Lydia and Lizzie were both seen weeping at Big Max’s funeral.

The one they dubbed Lucky Luke was skinny. He still had rough hands. She had always maintained she knew who he was and when she and Lydia finally confronted him, his face showed terror and fear, followed by a look of sheer panic. It gave Lizzie particular pleasure.

​

Lucky Luke ran a building business, doing repairs and maintenance work for people in Upper and Lower Winden and the surrounding villages. He worked mainly on his own, occasionally taking on casual labour when he needed it.